Two Poems
Durs Grünbein, translated by Michael Hofmann, 4 November 2004
In the Provinces 3 (Bohemia)
The silence round a dead mole on the edge of a wheat field is deceptive. Under it is a rendezvous for beetles, armed and in black. Above it wheels a hawk with ruffled wings, till he veers away. Like sappers at the double, ants dig a trench along the spine. On its inside the wires are glowing, nervous maggots on the ticker tape. From the stomach lining traders in...
